


Alone

by opalescentheart



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 23:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9791840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opalescentheart/pseuds/opalescentheart
Summary: Ed has a visitor a few days after shooting Oswald at the docks.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: mention of character death + blood

It’s the third morning.

The third morning after he’s shot a bullet into his former friend and dumped his body into the waters of Gotham River.

It’s the first morning Ed finds the strength to actually get out of bed.

As he showers, first warm water--then cold  - he wonders for a brief second if Oswald had been cold. If it had hurt as the ice-cold water had rushed into his lungs.

There’s something flaring up in him, a sharp pain, cutting through him so deep that he has to steady himself against the wet shower wall tiles.

He stays there for what seems like an eternity, just breathing, trying to let the cold water numb him.

By the time he’s turned the water off, Ed’s shaking all over, his lips blue and teeth chattering.

**

After quickly throwing some clothes on - sweatpants and an old wrinkled shirt - he tries to get himself to at least shave.

When he stands in front of his bathroom cabinet, ready to get rid of the dark stubble that has spread on his face, he falters. God, he looks awful.

Ed scoffs at seeing his reflection. “Look at you,” he sneers at himself, squinting his eyes in disgust at seeing his messy hair, the dark bags under his eyes and his almost seemingly sunken and ashen-pale face.

All too much, does he look like his former self - like the failure of a man he once used to be.

_“When I met you you were a nervous, jittery loser. You were nothing. I created Edward Nygma.”_

He inhales sharply.

Pressing his lips together to a thin line, Ed grips the edge of the sink - knuckles turning white - as he stares into the mirror with defiance.

“No. You didn’t.”

“Oh really? I beg to differ, my _dear old friend_.”

Ed’s heart drops.

No way.

However, deep down, Ed had expected it. After all, the same had happened with Kristen - after he’d killed her.

He tries to ignore it - _him_ \- as the figure emerges from the dim corner of the bathroom.

“You’re not real. You’re _not_ real,” he repeats like a mantra, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Of course I’m not real. You shot me, remember? I’m dead.”

Ed breath hitches in his chest, his chest clenching painfully.

“Go. Away,” he snarls through gritted teeth, gripping the rim of the sink even harder.

“I’m only here because you want me to be here, Ed.”

“No,” Ed says, grimacing before letting out a shaky, high-pitched laugh. “No, no, no. It’s all in my head. I can do this, _you_ can do this, Ed-”

“You miss me.”

Finally, Ed spins around, tears brimming at the corner of his wide-open eyes.

Inside his trembling chest, his heart skips a beat.

A pair of all too familiar green eyes is staring at him.

Oswald’s eyes.

“ _Go_ ,” Ed squeezes out through his restricted throat, eyes burning as the first tear rolls down his cheek.

Oswald blinks at him, cocking his head. “I can’t,” he says in an earnest tone. “You want me to be here, remember? I just told you-”

“I heard you,” Ed hurls back at him through gritted teeth, clenching his fists as he stares at his former friend - or at least his mind’s version of him.

Oswald’s lips spread into a small - almost satisfied - smile. “Good.”

“You’re wrong, though. I _don’t_ want you to be here,” Ed continues, fingernails digging into his palm. “I definitely don’t.”

Again, Oswald cocks his head a little, seeming almost innocent. “But you miss me, don’t you, Ed? I mean, look at you. It’s only been three days and you’re already going crazy, huh?” He lets out a small giggle, the skin around his eyes crinkling a bit.

For some reason, hearing the familiar sound of Oswald’s laughter makes his stomach flutter. For a split second, he ponders, falling into the trap his mind has set for him, living with the fantasy displayed in front of him. It would just be Oswald and him. Like in the good old days.

“Do you regret it?”

Ed wrinkles his brows.

“I mean - killing me. Do you regret it, Ed?” Oswald asks, voice so soft it makes Ed tear up even more. There’s a deep-nagging longing inside of him, to just rush over to what his imagination is depicting as Oswald and hug him. To never let him go.

He’s not stupid, though. He knows he can’t do that. And he knows, he can’t live in a fantasy. Not with Barbara, Tabitha and Butch trying to seize power over Gotham, already planning to get him out of the picture. Because, _of course_ , he knows about their plans.

Gotham is his responsibility now. He has to do what’s right. For himself. Only himself.

He’s better off alone, after all.

So, when Oswald is taking a few more steps towards him, the look on his face gentle and his green eyes bright with emotion, Ed feels panic rise up in him. He can’t allow this to happen. He won’t be weak. Ever again.

So he shouts, at the top of his lungs, startling Oswald and making him step back.

“Leave! I don’t want to ever see you again, Oswald. I don’t even want to _remember_ you. I want to forget you ever existed. I _hate_ you.” He almost chokes the last words out, spit flying from his mouth and his heart hammering inside his chest.

Suddenly Oswald’s smile fades and he lets out a quick gasp.

A dark red spot begins to spread on the front of Oswald’s white shirt.

The green eyes well up with tears. “I love you, Ed,” he  whispers as blood begins to trickle out of the corners of his mouth. Ed notices he’s wearing the same look on his face right before he had put a bullet in him.

Desperate, vulnerable - and _yet_ , still reassuring the man who was about to kill him that he loved him. That they belonged together.

“Deep down, you love me, too, Ed. At least you used to. Someday you will realize that,” Oswald now chokes out with a small sob, forcing more blood to gush out of his mouth.

Ed is frozen to the spot, unable to move nor react. He doesn’t even want to correct Oswald. Not anymore. He just allows his mind to torture him with the display of Oswald dying right in front of him - this time in all it’s painful and gruesome glory. There’s no getting away from it, no water blurring his sight, no walking away from it.

He lets it happen because he deserves it. He deserves to watch his best friend die. His only friend.

_“This will be the cold-blooded murder of someone you love.”_

Ed can barely breathe at this point, his throat and chest tight. He has to endure this. Then it will all be over. He’ll be alone. At peace.

Right?

Oswald’s sputtering out more blood now and the hand he’d been holding up - desperate to reach Ed - slowly sinks down into the puddle of blood that had spread around him.

And just like a few days prior, Oswald tells him: “You need me, Edward Nygma. Just like I need you. You cannot have one without the other.”

“I know,” he finally whispers, after Oswald’s gone quiet, his small body slumped down on the ground, soaked in blood.

“I know, I know,” Ed repeats, voice breaking this time. “I know, oh god- Oswald - _oh god_.”

With a gut-wrenching sob, Ed sinks to the ground, where any trace of what he’d just witnessed is already gone.

He’s alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Rosie, Eva and everyone else who gave me feedback on this! ♥︎


End file.
